Ethereal
by Kohaku Minamoto
Summary: Souls are ethereal, individual, indestructible...right? During the Dark Tournament, Botan meets a dark stranger who has very different opinions. And the strange thing is that, in some sick way, Botan understands him. Oneshot drabble, nonromance.


This kinda came on a whim. For some reason, these days I can't stop thinking about Botan (not in that way, stupid pervs; get your minds outta the gutter!). She seems like such an interesting character, but no one appreciates her enough. Well, here's something for her…enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, the song in this chapter (though I do own the poem; don't steal) and I most certainly do not own Botan. She is her own person. Hehe.

Set sometime during the Dark Tournament. You make your own assumptions.

* * *

**Ethereal**

Botan liked the rain and hated it at the same time.

Sometimes, the rain was gentle and sweet, lightly washing away the dirtiness of the world and replacing it with a glittering, almost ethereal appearance of cleanliness. Botan liked it then.

Other times, the rain was harsh and unforgiving, ruthlessly wiping out houses and people, leaving wreckage strewn about, people moaning and mourning. Botan hated it then.

Right now, the rain wasn't gentle and sweet or harsh and unforgiving.

It was simply pouring.

The bluette groaned and tried desperately to wring out the sodden mop that had once been a ponytail. Ducking into the nearest shop, she mentally cursed herself for not bringing an umbrella. Earlier that day storm clouds had been threatening on the horizon, but after the exhausting fight with Team Masho, Botan had stumbled back to her room, changed without much thought to what she was putting on, and walked out of the hotel.

And now she was paying for her lack of forethought. The lavender shortsleeved blouse she had been wearing underneath a brown jacket was uncomfortably wet and probably see-through. Her jeans looked like they were more wet laundry than denim, and her white sneakers were sopping wet, squeaking with every step.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The shopkeeper, a diminutive shrew demon even smaller than Hiei tugged at her elbow, which was the highest place he could reach. Botan glanced down at him, and he tittered nervously. "Uh, was there something you wanted?"

Botan noticed, with a mental groan, that she had taken shelter in a tattoo shop, one of the many makeshift businesses set up around the Dark Tournament stadium. A grubby sign overhead announced that the shop was called 'Dirty Ink Salon', a rather appropriate name, by the looks of it. Botan grimaced. _Anyone who comes in here will probably get HIV or AIDS,_ she thought dryly, glancing around at needles (was that blood crusted on the tip?), the reused cotton swabs, and the half-wiped tables.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Botan replied, throwing in a cheerful smile for good measure. "I'll just be going now…"

Before the demon could protest, Botan was out the door and back in the rain again. She glanced down the street at the shop names for a place to go next. The Bloody Ax? No. Sweet n' Sour Death? Not that either.

Oh, there looked something that seemed relatively innocent. 'Eth re l So ls', it said, several of the neon letters burned out. Drawing closer, Botan saw that the sign spelled 'Ethereal Souls', with the words 'Singer's Club' scrawled in what looked like permanent marker below it. The rain was still dumping buckets on her, so the ferrygirl quickly walked inside.

It was a quiet atmosphere, if a little bit dreary. Botan sat down at one of the many vacant tables just as a girl with metallic gold hair walked up onto the stage, folding her hands before reciting a poem.

It was a short, angsty creation that Botan didn't exactly like, so she politely tuned the girl out. But the last words caught her attention, drawing her in even though she tried to resist the dark words.

_**Souls are ethereal, individual, indestructible  
**__**They sail the River Styx while bodies return to earth, sky and sea  
**__**Riding from shore to shore, gliding in celestial grace  
**__**Twirling in some endless dance, for all of eternity.**_

"The motto of the club," someone said beside her. Botan gasped and spun around; she hadn't heard the stranger sit down at all. The masked man looked impassively at her.

"You know that the tradition with this place is that you must sing a song in order to be admitted?"

"You do?" Botan replied, somewhat stupidly, for at that moment a voice called out.

"Would the lady with the blue hair please come up onto the stage?"

Botan glanced around frantically for some other person with azure hair like hers. There were none. The stranger chuckled slightly and pushed her so that she stumbled out of her seat. "Go ahead."

With trembling fingers, Botan took the microphone. "H-hi," she murmured, startled by the sudden boom of her own tentative voice. "Uh…what should I sing?"

"Anything," a purple-haired demon in the front row called out, waving his hand around. "Express yourself."

"Express myself. Right." Summoning up her courage and swallowing her nervousness, Botan walked over to the pianist in the corner. After an extremely difficult conversation – the pianist was deaf ("like Beethoven!" he had exclaimed) – Botan finally got him to understand the piece she wanted to sing. She jogged back up onto the stage.

"Um, all right, everyone," she said. "I'll sing now."

_**How, how am I supposed to feel  
When everything surrounding me  
Is nothing but a fake disguise  
I don't know, I don't know where I belong  
It's time for me to carry on  
I'll say goodbye  
**_

_Appropriate enough,_ Botan thought, as someone in the crowd recognized the tune and whipped out (seemingly from nowhere) a set of drums. _After all, it's pouring outside._

_**I can't stop the rain from falling  
I'm drowning in these tears I cry  
Since you left without a warning  
I face the dawn with sleepless eyes  
No I can't go on  
When clouds are pushing down on me, boy  
I can't stop, I can't stop the rain  
From falling**_

The stranger was staring at her. _Where have I seen him before?_ Botan thought to herself. _He looks familiar. Maybe I've seen him at the tournament?_

She wasn't sure.

_**So, tell me where I went wrong  
I'm stuck inside a dream long gone  
It's hard to reveal the truth  
Your love is nothing but a bitter taste  
It's better if I walk away,  
Away from you**_

Botan was starting to lose herself in the music. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pianist bobbing his head up and down while banging on the keys. She didn't understand how he could do that – he could hear his own music, so how could he know the beat?

Then again…Botan laughed inwardly to herself. Beethoven had been deaf, and he'd been one of the greatest classical music composers of all time. She'd heard tales of how the composer had gone to the Spirit World (causing a great amount of paperwork for Koenma) with a bang, insisting that he have one of his symphonies played for him before Koenma passed judgment.

Koenma had granted his wish. After all, the man had just gotten his hearing back in death, why shouldn't he listen to one of his own creations?

It turned out to be a very regretful decision. The musicians summoned for the task played Beethoven's composition so loudly that nearly everyone _except_ Beethoven had their ears ringing for weeks after.

_**I can't stop the rain from falling  
I'm drowning in these tears I cry  
Since you left without a warning  
I face the dawn with sleepless eyes  
No I can't go on  
When clouds are pushing down on me, boy  
I can't stop, I can't stop the rain  
From falling.**_

There was uproarious cheering. "Brava, brava!" someone called out.

_Isn't it 'bravo'?_ Botan wondered vaguely as she stumbled off the stage and back to her seat. The masked stranger glanced at her, no feeling in his cool eyes. Botan felt a shiver go down her spine and quickly looked away.

"That was a good song," he said. "You have potential."

"Thanks," Botan said breathlessly, then stood up. "I…I'd better go."

"Stay for a moment. It's still raining."

He had a point there. It was pouring even harder than ever. Botan sat down and attempted a weak grin. "That song must've made the rain come down even harder, hm?"

She could've sworn the mask moved for a second as though he was smiling, but then the expression was gone again. "Where are you from?" he asked, leaning forward as though actually interested. Botan gulped.

"S-Spirit World."

"Really? We don't get many of your type around here." His voice was light and lilting, but deeply sensuous underneath. Botan giggled nervously, prepared to bolt in case he decided he didn't like 'her type' and attacked. But he only lounged back in his chair, looking perfectly at ease with the world.

"Where are you from?" she countered when silence threatened to create more tension between them.

One perfect eyebrow raised slightly. "Demon World."

"Oh…ah…haha, I knew that." Botan suddenly felt really ridiculous. "Are you in the Dark Tournament?"

"Yes."

"What team?"

"Tsk." The demon leaned forward again, capturing Botan's eyes with his own. "I do not believe that subject is a fit topic for conversation between us, my dear. If I tell you, you may not be as open."

"Ah…" Botan felt even more nervous now. "All right…"

"So how did you happen upon 'Ethereal Souls'?"

"It was raining," Botan explained, feeling stupid. "I came here for shelter."

"A good reason." The stranger looked like he was twirling something in his fingers, but Botan couldn't see it. _What's that?_

"Do you believe souls are ethereal?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"…No." The masked man didn't take his eyes off the invisible thing in his grasp. "Bodies can be beautiful or ugly, as are souls. Contrary to the club's motto, souls _are_ destructible, just not by physical means."

"Uh…" The stranger was rather philosophical, something that Botan didn't quite understand. Her own motto was 'seize the day' or, more precisely, 'look on the bright side'. She didn't usually give this much thought to things – that was a job for Kurama, or maybe Hiei. Not her, even though she had been alive for centuries by now.

"You are a spirit guide. Sometimes you see a soul that is wounded or somehow incomplete, and they cannot move from the spot where their physical body perished until they somehow find fulfillment." The man glanced at her. "I don't particularly like the fact that things age and lose their beauty. People die. Flowers wilt. The leaves on trees disappear. I enjoy the present, but I despise the future."

Botan felt vaguely like she was getting in too deep. "I-I have to go," she stuttered, grabbing her coat and running out the door.

She thought she heard the stranger speak before she left. "Be careful, little girl," he told her. "Protect what souls you can, because no matter what people say, souls are not ethereal."

Botan ran, ran as fast as she could. The man frightened her, but what frightened her even more was that in some obscene, disgusting way she understood his reasoning.

And later, when she saw how intent he was on killing one of her friends, she hated him, but still understood his reasons.

* * *

This is stupid. I couldn't find a suitable ending…Sorry.

Could you guess who the guy was? I mean, it was pretty obvious…I'll just tell you. It was Karasu. Ding ding ding, cookies for all of you who got it right. Review, 'kay?


End file.
